Loved and Lost
by A Beautiful Oblivion
Summary: 10/10/2012. RIP Lucy Stillman.


**Yes, today is that day. The day that I, like so many other AC nerds, mourn the loss of Lucy Stillman, one of the best female characters I have come across in a long while from _any_ media, books and movies alike.**

**Well done Ubisoft, you killed my dreams.**

* * *

Desmond sat against one of the back wheels of the van, knees curled up to his chest, staring out at the forest. The trees were changing colours—red, orange, yellow, and brown mixed with the light green of the immature deciduous trees and the dark of the permanently-green evergreens. America. His country. He was home at last.

But someone was missing, wasn't she? Desmond frowned. He'd killed Lucy, hadn't he? All he could remember was some ghostly being telling him he was going to be late for her funeral...

A sharp pain exploded behind his eyes. Desmond squeezed his eyelids shut and rested his forehead on the knees of his jeans, moaning softly. It hurt to think about Lucy. It always had since...

Memories burst in front of his closed eyelids like fireworks. Desmond grabbing the Apple, Desmond whipping back his blade, Desmond puncturing Lucy's soft and vulnerable abdomen, Lucy's complete and utter look of shock as she fell to the ground, the feel of Lucy's blood, the light fading from Lucy's eyes as they closed.

"Hey."

Desmond jerked his head up, hearing a female voice, hoping - praying - that he'd been having another crazy dream, but he was still in the forest, not in the Sanctuary. Still in America, not in Italy. Rebecca was the one who'd spoken; she crouched in front of him now, concern in her eyes—concern that should've been in Lucy's eyes.

The hope flew out of Desmond, and he exhaled. "What's up." There was no emotion in his voice; he'd felt more than enough for three lifetimes.

Rebecca tipped her head, studying him with cautious eyes. Desmond half-wanted her to ask him about how he was feeling. He needed to tell _someone_.

"How're you doing, Desmond?" she asked softly. Desmond slumped in return. She hasn't asked him how he was feeling. She'd asked him how he was _doing_. She cared about his physical well-being.

Rebecca was trying to take over Lucy's role as caregiver, but she was doing a lousy job of it. Lucy didn't care about his physical fatigue; she cared about his brain far more than she cared about some headaches.

_Past tense, Desmond. _He closed his eyes again, tensing his fingers around his calves.

"Desmond?"

"I'm fine," Desmond said slowly without opening his eyes.

"Okay..." Rebecca sounded none-too-convinced. There was the sound of her full weight shifting on to her feet; she'd stood. "We've got to get going soon." A pause. "Shaun's so excited he's nearly pissing himself."

It was a poor attempt at humour; Rebecca laughed weakly until she determined that she would be getting no reaction from Desmond, and quickly scurried off, leaving him alone to his pain and thoughts.

Once he was sure Rebecca had gone, Desmond opened his eyes to stare at the trees. It was bittersweet, however; the warm colours and combinations calmed him down significantly, but he couldn't stop thinking about how much Lucy would have loved the shade of red on that tree, or the feel of the breeze in her hair, or the sweet, musky smell of fall in the air.

And now she would never experience fall, or anything, ever again. It was Desmond's fault. He couldn't find it in himself to blame it on Juno. It was _he_ who had been an idiot and picked up that Apple without knowing its effect, _his _arm that had driven the blade into Lucy's stomach.

Desmond found it quite ironic that the other Assassins hasn't taken his blade away, Shaun especially. They'd seen what he had done with it and were still quite content to let him keep it. The blood was gone, but the memory remained.

_It's all right._

Desmond's eyes darted around. He leaped to his feet, moving towards the trees. There had been a voice! He _knew _he wasn't imagining it this time.

"Lucy?" he breathed.

Nothing but the wind rustling through the trees' dry leaves reached Desmond's ears. He wanted to cry out, wanted to tear off into the forest, wanted to find her.

_I'm sorry._

Desmond took a few paces closer to the thin trees. The leaves were making words.

_She's dead!_ Desmond told himself firmly. _Stop kidding yourself!_

But no matter how many times he told himself, the forest still drew him. A small, illogical part of his brain thought that if he just _looked _for her, she would be there.

"Desmond?" A call startled Desmond out of his reverie. He turned to see William peering at him from behind the van. "Come on son, it's time to go."

Only because it was his father Desmond went. He wanted to sit in the grass forever and stare. He wanted to stay with Lucy forever. But instead he walked away.

Three soft words, whispered through the leaves as the wind rustled them:

_I love you._

* * *

**I can't help thinking that Ubisoft definitely could have kept Lucy alive. Whether she was a Templar or not, she was still my absolute favourite female character in a long time, and I will miss her dearly.**_  
_

**RIP.**


End file.
